Alarms blare across Adams Air Force Base, warning of an impending orbital strike. The strike Alexis just triggered, about to hit the target she painted on this very place. Enclave personnel scuttle every which way, paying her no heed in their panic. It's not so hard to believe when adrenaline spikes cold on Alexis' tongue and her heart thunders in her ears, drowning out the possible sound of incoming missiles. She's as frantic as the rest of them, having forgotten which way she came from, and blindly bolts up the nearest set of stairs.
Yeah, she should have put more thought into the escape part of the plan.
Barreling through the nearest door, Alexis finds herself on the roof of the base. She darts to the railing, needing to do something. Stairs! If she can find stairs—
The familiar drone of a vertibird draws close and she whirls, seeking its source. The Brotherhood logo painted on the side is like a moonrise of steel-gray that robs her of fear. As it descends to hover on the roof, one soldier leans out, blonde hair whipping around her face.
"Surprised to see me?"
There's no time to hesitate or to even think, not with the Enclave base behind her back and Sarah's outstretched hand before her and the impending orbital strike looming somewhere above her head. Hauling her aboard, Sarah bangs the pilot's seat and he directs the vertibird up and away. There are other vertibirds fleeing, some in Brotherhood colors and others the Enclave's, but all of them are like a flock of fat crows fleeing a corpse when disturbed from their meal.
All of a sudden, it clicks who's standing beside her. "Sarah!"
Moments too late, Alexis realizes hugging a soldier in power armor isn't a great idea. Someone behind them snickers; probably Artemis. For her part, Sarah is gracious about the whole deal, lightly resting on armored hand on Alexis' back. The vertibird banks, giving Alexis an excuse to let go and clutch at the nearest seat for balance. Still, she looks Sarah over again, searching for clues about her condition, but only her head is bare. The rest of her is encased in her Sentinel's power armor. Then again, that should be enough of a clue; she must have been cleared for combat.
With the combined roar of wind and rotor blades, Alexis has to shout to be heard. "Last I saw, you were still out cold in the infirmary. It's good to see you're okay!"
Good is something of an understatement, but the rest of Lyons Pride is watching with varying degrees of amusement.
Still, something about her manner must convey the depth of her relief, because Sarah's mouth quirks in a lopsided smile. Alexis' heart skips a beat. "Couldn't let you have all the fun by yourself!"
The co-pilot turns in her seat to call a warning of the base's imminent destruction, and the Pride clambers for a good view. From her spot beside Sarah, Alexis has a prime seat, heart racing with a fresh surge of adrenaline. Sarah's grin is savage, fed by an eager contempt of her foes, and her face is radiant with triumph. And maybe, for just a moment, there's something more than pride glimmering in her eyes when she looks at Alexis.
In the twilight, it's difficult to notice the approaching missiles at first. One silver trail blazes down from the stars. Then another, and another. A dozen sliver-finned eels diving through the air, unwavering, and their aim is true.
It isn't the first time Alexis has seen an explosion of this magnitude, fireball expanding with a divine force to consume everything in its path, burning away the night with its searing orange glow. It is the first time she's pressed the button herself. Raven Rock had been different.
The pilot shouts something that's lost in the roar, and Sarah grabs at the handrail dangling from the ceiling. "Hold on to your seats. This is going to get rough!"
Alexis barely manages to secure herself in the nearest chair when the vertibird lurches. Yanked sideways, the harness cuts into her shoulders and ribs, barely keeping her internal organs in place. She flails for a handhold and has to settle for gripping the edge of her seat. Solid in her power armor, Sarah barely jostles. The others make it through the shock wave in various states of dignity.
The rest of the trip blurs into disparate sensations as adrenaline leaches away, stealing the rest of Alexis' energy as it goes. The shoulder beside her is hard, but the hand that holds her steady is gentle. The air is cold, so very cold, but the faces around her burn with a fierce joy. Alexis closes her eyes, but the explosion is still there, bathing her eyelids with red, and the whipping blades of the vertibird propellers morphs into the roar of the missile strike.
The vertibird touches down with a heavy clank, jostling its occupants. Alexis follows the others out to the Citadel's courtyard, to the cheering of gathered Brotherhood personnel.
Someone says something, maybe Artemis, but Alexis can't quite make out the words. Sarah frowns but doesn't disagree. Resting a hand on Alexis' back, Sarah follows the flow of wounded to the infirmary.
When directed, Alexis tries to work at the buckles on her recon armor, but her hands are numb and uncooperative. As the various pieces fall away, like the dead shell of an ancient clam, they reveal the blue of her vault suit. Cobalt is a color of comfort. A vaguely familiar doctor tends her injuries. Flesh wounds, as far as she can tell; not bad considering what she'd been up against. Alexis closes her eyes and pretends it's her father treating her.
What did you get yourself into this time? Another scuffle with Butch?
The doctor consigns her to bed rest after administering a stimpak. A hand on her elbow steers her down a hallway populated by gray ghosts that drift by her peripheral.
Alexis blinks and she's sitting on a worn couch and there are burning hands curled around hers and she's shaking.
"You've gone into shock," Sarah is telling her.
Oh. That makes sense. The symptoms match.
Alexis looks around the room, but there are no markers of familiarity to ground her. "Where am I?"
"Relax. You're safe here. We're at the Citadel, and these are my quarters."
She peers around again but nothing jumps out at her. "I don't remember getting here."
"It's okay. That's normal." Disappearing into the kitchenette, Sarah returns with a hot drink and a stern order to drink it.
Obeying would be easy if it isn't simpler to just stare into the depths of her mug. Sarah prods her in the ribs, so she takes another sip. When she's drunk enough to satisfy her new nanny, Alexis flops sideways so she's draped over Sarah's lap. It isn't a doctor-approved recovery position, but she's already congealing in place. Easing Alexis' hair out of its sloppy bun, Sarah cards her fingers through her ash blonde locks. The gentle motion is soothing in its repetition, providing order. Predictability.
Alexis swallows. "I killed a lot of people today."
Sarah's hand stills. "Yeah."
No reiteration of the mission, of their victory, of the party line that helps the Brotherhood sleep at night. Alexis isn't sure if she wants reassurance or judgment, but it isn't Sarah's place to provide either.
"How do you deal with it?"
Sarah is quiet for so long any expectation of a response fades. When she does speak, her soft voice matches the muted ambiance of the room. "Mutants, feral ghouls… they're easier than people."
"Humans," Alexis corrects, and turns her head in time to catch Sarah's grimace.
"You know what I mean. Like it or not, people aren't actually supposed to kill each other. Why else would our conscience bite us for it?"
Alexis' agreement sticks in her throat. "I don't know what I did…"
"Helped the Brotherhood cripple the Enclave and protected Capital Wasteland, for starters."
Alexis closes her eyes; it doesn't alleviate the hot ache behind them. "You know what I mean. It was—personal. I had nothing else when Elder Lyons asked me to help. I was still angry about what they did to Dad, so hell yeah I was going to rain on their parade." A thin, trembling exhale precedes her next admission. "He wouldn't have wanted that."
"From what I heard about your father, he understood serving the greater good. Why else would he spend over twenty years on Project Purity to provide clean water for us all?"
"He didn't want this for me. He wanted me to have a safe, boring life in the vault. How did he describe the surface… a 'forsaken war zone'."
A pause. "Knew your father must've been smart. But no matter what anyone else thinks, I'm proud of you."
That… helps. Even if she doesn't want to picture her dad's face if he could see her now. Or worse, her mother's. That one she doesn't even know, besides a single faded photo.
Shuffling halfway onto her back—and getting stuck with one shoulder underneath her—Alexis catches Sarah's hand. Through the bandages, her touch burns. "Will you stay?"
"Always." Sarah catches Alexis' hand to press her knuckles to her cheek.
That'll be a first for somebody Alexis loves.
"Get some rest, okay? You'll be closer to normal tomorrow. Promise."
Thus reassured, Alexis closes her eyes and drifts. She isn't sure when she wakes, exactly, only that her eyelids are too light to remain closed and the room is too dark to make out any details. The walls hum with persistent sounds of human habitation that bleed through concrete and steel.
And, oh, the swell of disappointment when she realizes she isn't in Vault 101. But that raises the question of where she is, exactly. Her memories are fuzzy at best. It looks like the Citadel, but not anywhere she's ever been before. And the bed is much nicer than those in the infirmary.
But the mystery can wait five more minutes—it would be criminal to leave this comfy, comfy bed so soon.
Alexis stretches her toes to a chorus of complaints not only from her calves, but her ankles, her spine and her glutes. This is the less-than-fun part of muscles being interconnected. Rising to her feet at last, Alexis looks herself over. Clad in her Vault-Tec issue crop top and shorts, the bruises and burns and bandages that march across her skin are easy to spot. Nothing too serious, even if they ache and sting.
There's a half-unpacked duffel in the corner, spilling a change of clothes and a 10mm pistol from its gaping zipper mouth onto the table. Rifling through the contents of the room for clues would be rude, so Alexis leaves it be. Besides, there's only one person she knows who ties her socks in a knot to avoid losing one half of a pair.
Sarah's sprawled on the couch, one arm pillowed under her head, a clipboard propped on her thighs. She glances up at the movement in her peripheral, tensing, but relaxes when her internal identify friend-foe kicks in. She pulls one hand free from under the couch cushion, and Alexis prays to whoever might be listening that there isn't a gun stashed down there.
Sarah must have moved her after she fell asleep, because she distinctly recalls being on the couch in Sarah's lap.
Nodding to herself, Sarah offers a smile. "Morning. You're looking better. Feeling it, too?"
"Much. Sleeping in a proper bed helped. Thanks, by the way."
"Anytime."
Sarah swings her legs over the side of the couch, patting the space beside her. Alexis takes the offered seat because it's the courteous thing to do, her massive crush on Sarah notwithstanding.
Rubbing the back of her neck, Sarah stretches her head to one side, then the other. "Knew I should've grabbed a pillow."
"I can… help with that? If you want, that is."
Sarah raises an eyebrow. "Secret Vault-Tec massage techniques?"
"My best friend, Amata, used to get headaches. In the vault, all meds are on strict lock down. Especially mild painkillers. I asked Dad for an alternative treatment and he showed me this. It's not perfect, but it's better than nothing."
Being the Overseer's daughter was a position of its own, and Amata's father had piled extra weights on her slender shoulders instead of easing the burden. Not that Amata is capable of crumbling under the weight of responsibility, but the stress cocktail of school, leadership training, and distance between her fellow vault dwellers had manifested in headaches.
Alexis draws her soft pale blonde hair, for once loose from its bun, over her shoulder so it won't get in the way.
"Are you sure you're okay to do this? Yesterday was huge for you. For all of us."
No, no she's not; Alexis has to do her job without making a fool of herself. But she doubts that's what Sarah is referring to. Under Alexis' hands, Sarah's shoulders are tight from sleeping in an awkward position. She digs her thumbs into the worst knots, gentle at first, then firmer as she kneads away the tension. "Consider it thanks for pulling me out of the radiation in the purifier."
Sarah swallows. When she finds her voice, it's roughened by the sandpaper of remembered fear. "I couldn't leave you in there to die. If I could've shielded you from the worst of it, I would have. If I'd still had my helmet, I could've gone in instead."
"You had multiple suit breaches. Your armor wouldn't have protected you."
"Would've been a hell of a lot safer than the exposure you suffered."
The next moment passes with mutual frowns, until Alexis covers Sarah's hand with her own. "Well, we both made it. That counts for something, right? And I know where you're coming from, that you don't want to see me hurt, because I feel the same way about you."
Looking down at their hands, Sarah entwines their fingers. "Yeah. Not bad, huh? Activated the purifier and kicked the Enclave's ass. Next we clear out Vault 87 and take on the mutants."
Fighting a groan, Alexis tries not to sound too wheedling when she says, "Can't we take a break? We're both recovering coma patients, after all."
"You know… that actually sounds pretty good."
Uh-oh, now Alexis' heart just backflipped. "Now that the biggest threat is toast, do you, uh, think we could see where things go between us?"
Sarah pulls her into a hug and leans back against the arm of the couch. Snuggling into a more comfortable position atop her, Alexis deflates with a long exhale as Sarah traces the curve of her spine.
"I'll be your shield," she says at last, "if you'll be mine."